When writing erotic or sex poems...

[Liar]

I'm usually horny when I write them.

Moderation is the key, I'm too horny for poems right now.

 

[WickedEve]

Moderation is the key, I'm too horny for poems right now.

Same here.

 

[The_Fool]

Women are such bitches, aren't they?
By the way, I truly like the poem. It's smart and sexy. It appears that it wasn't written by a dumbass--or a brick. I just hate it when dumbasses write poetry--bless their silly, silly, little hearts.

What about fools?


That AV is hot...

 

[eagleyez]

Im a shy birdbrain when it comes to writing this Eros material of which you speak.

I saw Charlie Bukowski read in a run down theatre once and now that is a Dirty Old Man. By his seventh or eighth beer it was all hair, teeth and eyeballs.

Tenderly spoken of course.

 

[WickedEve]

What about fools?


That AV is hot...

Oh, you'd find a snowball hot! lol
And you write good poetry for a fool. At least, I assume it's good. It's so hard for me to be objective about your poetry when I'm lusting so badly for you. I'm seriously just a big ol' squishy puddle of lust! Squish, squish, squash.

 

[Stella_Omega]

*cough* back to the subject for a moment*cough
My inspirations are still the same as my prose- a word spoken in passing, the way she crossed the street, someone's gesture, a naked photo... What I turn it into could be hopes, or memories, or a pile of crap- epecially today, don't know why

When I write prose, as I mostly do- it's very concrete and physical. I find taht the poetry i've been writing has let me write more about feelings, rather than actions.
I don't know if it's because it's still unfamiliar territory- or if it's one of thise things that switch your brain, like the change in personality some people have when they're drunk...

has anyone else found a similar reaction?

 

[annaswirls]

*cough* back to the subject for a moment*cough
My inspirations are still the same as my prose- a word spoken in passing, the way she crossed the street, someone's gesture, a naked photo... What I turn it into could be hopes, or memories, or a pile of crap- epecially today, don't know why

When I write prose, as I mostly do- it's very concrete and physical. I find taht the poetry i've been writing has let me write more about feelings, rather than actions.
I don't know if it's because it's still unfamiliar territory- or if it's one of thise things that switch your brain, like the change in personality some people have when they're drunk...

has anyone else found a similar reaction?

I definately have a drunk switch in my brain. Generally caused by sleep deprivation but writing poetry can do it to me too.

Having a drunk switch makes me a cheap date, and my poems appreciate that. They can convince me to do just about anything. It is actually just an excuse. You know, like when people ask why I performed fellatio on my poem while hanging upside down from a tree, I can blame the drunk switch. It is all good.

 

[ewopper]

With HER I definitely went where no man has been before! Hell and back! And yes, I got burnt a whole bundle!

But here is another from the archives. A nice memory.


CARS
You choose your car
Like you choose your lover
*(Dominique began her weird French discourse)
Not necessarily the most beautiful
Nor the fastest
It could be a little dated
With the springs a little stiff!
But it's the overall package
The kudos of having something "autre"

Angelique insisted on the Mini
(Insisting it was possible)
Pull your knees up into your chest
Let his head press into the hook of your neck
His deep breaths sweat your breasts
The whole tangled choreography is at a juncture, she said
That allowed him deepest penetration

Francois scoffed and pointed to the Deux Chev Veux
Forget its sewing machine engine
It has springs to die for!
Open the sunroof she explained
Stand up and feel the warm summer air
Drifting in off the Atlantic
He comes up at you
Primal and hungry
The car maybe static but boy!
Your mind is doing the ton!

If a man's car is an extension of his penis
Continued Dominique
Is it fair to say the way he drives
Is probably how he fucks?
Angelique intervened
"Is the way a woman drives the way she fucks?"
I looked up at Dominique in amazement
Remembering how she drove me back from Vannes to St Pierre
Surging down the back lanes
Swinging into one bend and skidding out of another
Riding the dips and brows like she was riding a bronco
A battered old red Renault 4 with a deceptive acceleration!


Epilogue

I saw Dominique some years later
Leaving a restaurant off Pont Neuilly
She had lost her youthful jaunt
That fresh roundness had gone
She was more angular
Like she was guarding her weight too zealously
She stepped in to a Mercedes that was waiting
With the cold charm of a sophisticate
You don't have young eager sex in a Mercedes
You don't even make love
You make a deal
Dominique looked like someone
Who had made a deal!

Ilike the poem it has that sophisticated possible movie air to it keep writing

 

[neonflux]

What inspires my poetry?

Extreme pain. extreme joy or extreme passion - the Muse comes to me with a poem I cannot NOT write and share, different from prose - fiction or non-fiction - or film scripts where she will give me occassional glimpses into the divine once I have wrestled long and hard with the material. The Muse comes to me with poems almost fully formed - don't get me wrong, I still edit and edit and edit, but the whole of the idea and pulse and word play is already there with a poem in a way that it is not with other material... Needless to say, poems are a rarity for me.

 

[bogusbrig]

Extreme pain. extreme joy or extreme passion - the Muse comes to me with a poem I cannot NOT write and share, different from prose - fiction or non-fiction - or film scripts where she will give me occassional glimpses into the divine once I have wrestled long and hard with the material. The Muse comes to me with poems almost fully formed - don't get me wrong, I still edit and edit and edit, but the whole of the idea and pulse and word play is already there with a poem in a way that it is not with other material... Needless to say, poems are a rarity for me.

The problem with waiting for inspiration is that you can wait a life time.

Poems are like women, you work hard winning one woman, then there are a bundle of women showing an interest in you, you work hard writing one poem and a bundle of poems come.

You have to work damn hard for the first one though.

OK If I had a better butt and mug, it might be easier.

 

[ewopper]

*Deep curtsey...I could not resist the topic. (well, I could have, but...I didnt want to work that hard...*lol)

I write...though none of you have had the chance to read anything I have written...(I have not posted anything)

I am much like ewopper...all of the above inspires me.

...suddenly, this is feeling a bit,...unfair?...lol, I have written, but y'all have not read...hmmmm

ok...back to the point....anyone besides me, ever had 'external muses'?
In whatever form...but the same muse?

hmmmm.

I can say yes to the external muses I think ifI interpreted this correctly

 

[Angeline]

My inspirations are memories and music. I often listen to music as I write, typically jazz or classical. I don't think Miles Davis meant the blue in Kind of Blue the way I've interpreted it in some poems, but it works for me.

 

[ewopper]

My inspirations are memories and music. I often listen to music as I write, typically jazz or classical. I don't think Miles Davis meant the blue in Kind of Blue the way I've interpreted it in some poems, but it works for me.

To me jazz music in itself is erotic, and has in many instances inspired me to write some of my most erotic pieces. There' comething about a sax that inspires me fervently